A Siren's Call
by thequeenregina
Summary: Regina Mills doesn't do love. She has sex. With married men. She's a home wrecker and an adulteress. Will Robin Locksley allow himself to be seduced into breaking his vows to his wife? Warning: This story contains adultery.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have been wanting to write this story for a while, and suddenly became inspired when a poll I released on twitter also favoured the idea. This will be a small multi-chapter fic, which I will be writing alongside LAFC. I hope you will like it. Rated M for later, steamier chapters.**

 **Warning: This story will contain strong adultery themes from the beginning. If this is something you do not want to read the I suggest you do not proceed.**

 **For those who do wish to proceed, please do let me know what you think of the first chapter of 'A Siren's Call'!**

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She likes married men, and she knows she shouldn't. It's a sin. A delicious sin, nonetheless. It does wonders to her ego, knowing that these men are willing to risk their entire relationship, marriage or _family_ for _her._ She's been called a sin on numerous occasions, as she swirls her tongue around a married man's cock or rides someone else's fiancé into the mattress.

She enjoys the challenge. Loves the challenge of seducing them to the point of erring. Adores it when they moan in defeat, accepting their fate as they fall into her poised talons. And then she shows them _exactly_ what they are missing out on in a relationship; incredible sex. Because sex is _so_ much better when it's forbidden; it's rushed, passionate, sweaty, often in a place where they could get caught—that's the biggest thrill of them all.

 _Oh,_ the way her heart pumps with an addictive adrenaline when the wife comes home and finds her husband in between another woman's legs. She often moans loudly for theatrics and almost laughs aloud at the devastation on the other woman's face. She even likes it when she bares scratches of jealous girlfriends across her wrists from where they have torn her away from their boyfriend, or a bruised cheek from the hearty slap of a devastated wife.

What she doesn't like is the declarations of love. Those take away _all_ of the fun, they make her skin crawl and her heart shrivel in distaste. She doesn't do love. She has sex. And only sex. It's why she has a second phone, goes by a second identity. So that she can't be chased down by the men who decide they want more with her, that they will drop everything they have for _her_. Because then it's no longer scandalous, and that really is no joy. So she only ever takes these men back to their houses or hotel rooms (if they aren't fucking in a bathroom stall or in a dark alleyway someway down the street). Never to her house, though, that's far too personal.

Mila Slinger. That's her stage name. An acronym for her real name: Regina Mills. No one knows about this double life of hers. She keeps herself to herself and is honestly a bit of a loner. She has no friends, only acquaintances. No family, either, but that's another story. She likes it this way, though—no baggage.

Friday nights are when she wanders into town and prowls the bars and clubs, searching for her next bed partner. Sometimes she steals them for the night, sometimes she scores them for longer, weeks; months even—though she often tires of them when the novelty runs out. And sometimes she's altogether unsuccessful and goes home to her vibrator and vivid imagination.

Though, on the rare occasion, she scores a 'maybe'. These maybes are the ones she can't quite convince to sin on the first night they meet, yet they intrigue her enough to make her want to chase them down until they are practically down on their knees and begging for her to strip them of their morals. Those are the most fun; she feels like she has earned the sex this way, and it's so much more rewarding to watch them crumble and to witness their last shreds of dignity ebb away before they launch themselves at her and fall into her dangling trap.

She's been referred to as a siren on more than one occasion and, honestly, Regina could not put it more perfectly herself. She's beautiful on the outside, sexy and alluring, though she's rotten on the inside, evil to the core and void of all things pleasant. She enjoys corrupting others almost as much as she enjoys the forbidden sex. Almost. The sex is awfully good.

It's past midnight when she strolls into _The Arrow and Apple._ She never goes too early; the men are too sober before this time, thinking too clearly. They can be better manipulated further into the night with a few more drinks in their system. She is wearing a low V-neck, black cocktail dress. It's one of the most effective at getting her laid, and since it's been a few weeks since she's fallen into bed with a taken man (his name was Graham, she had been fucking him for a few weeks when his girlfriend Emma had found them with his cock trapped between Regina's teeth) she's really rather hopeful of finding one tonight.

The brunette saunters to the bar whilst expertly surveying the room for attractive faces and wedding rings. There aren't many. Wedding rings, that is. Until one a few yards away catches the light and glints like a tempting gemstone. As she takes her seat on the bar stool she orders her usual martini before following the line of the man's muscular arm all of the way up to his broad shoulders.

She can only see his profile but he is delightfully scrumptious with a mop of dirty blond hair on his head and a rugged splatter of stubble along his jaw. And boy, those dimples are almost blinding as he laughs at something the man adjacent to him says. She has to get a closer look.

The bartender hands her drink over to her and she lays a ten dollar bill on the bar top, telling him to keep the change before she slips from her stool and sashays through the crowd towards this man. It's perfect timing because his friend is just leaving, heading towards the bar and leaving her target alone. His eyes meet hers when he notices she is approaching him. They are a beautiful sky blue, almost silver they are so pale and captivating. Regina almost forgets her signature line. "Jacob Palmer, right?" she asks with a flirtatious smile.

The other man frowns before offering her a sympathetic smile. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm Robin Locksley," he replies—he's British, and it only makes him more irresistible. She's never bedded a Brit before, would quite like to know what sounds he is capable of making as he fucks her from behind. _Mmm, focus, Regina._

"Oh," she says, feigning embarrassment as she blushes. "I could have sworn you were him. You look just like him." She chuckles and shakes her head before adding, "I'm Mila, by the way."

"Mila?" he asks, "What an unusual name." And just like that, she's in. "Eastern European, no?"

Seems this Locksley man is clever too. "Yes," she says, nodding, "My father is from Polish descent." A lie, but it quite aptly explains her stage name. "My mother—"

"Let me guess," he butts in and Regina is more than happy to oblige as she nods and awaits his answer, sipping at her drink. "Dark hair, olive skin…" His eyes dart down her body and she has to suppress a winning grin as he adds in a lower tone, "Amazing curves. Latina?"

She has to admit that she is impressed. Most of the men dumb enough to cheat on their wives or girlfriends are dumb in the head too. This one is switched on, and Regina can tell he's going to be more challenging than the rest. Possibly even a 'maybe'. She hopes not, though. She _really_ wants sex tonight. "Yes," she says and then she steps closer, not touching him, but now she's in his personal space, "I do have my Latina mother to thank for my, how you put it, _amazing curves_ ," she purrs, looking up at him through her dark lashes before sipping at her martini.

"Oh, well, I—" he's blubbering now and it's terribly cute how flustered he's become.

"It's okay," she reassures, looking pointedly down at her breasts. "You can look if you want," she whispers loudly over the background noise of the pub. "I don't mind."

But the man shakes his head and closes his eyes. "No. I can't."

Regina frowns. "And why's that?"

He opens his mouth to retort but then his friend is returning and ruining everything as he looks at her and then at Robin, thrusting a pint into his hand. This friend is tall, chunky and (quite frankly) ugly. "Who's this?" he asks, and the way he looks at her makes Regina's fingers clench at her side.

"I'm Mila. Who are you?" she answers curtly, standing up straight and stepping back from Robin.

"John," he bites back. "And Robin is married, so he's not interested. I suggest you flaunt your tits elsewhere."

"John!" Robin scolds.

But Regina is shocked at John's sudden rude bluntness that she barely hears Robin's reaction. She wants to react, to launch her half full martini in his face, or perhaps slap him hard for calling her out on being the whore she is—but no one other than herself is allowed to call her a whore, or even suggest it. Although, as offended and angry as she is, perhaps she can manipulate this situation to her advantage, if she has read this Robin Locksley right.

So she frowns, or rather scowls at the man, and mutters, "I hope you don't speak to all women that way." And she even manages to conjure up a few tears, which remain unshed as they lay along her lower eyelids, before she walks away without another word, rushing into the crowd of people gathered on the dance floor. And just as she had hoped, Robin follows, calling her name as he pushes his way through the throng of people behind her until they are both outside and it is just the two of them.

"Mila, wait!" he calls out one last time as he slips from the side door of the pub.

"What?" she snaps, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. She had finished and discarded her drink on her way out. "Your friend made it quite clear how you feel about me."

Robin shakes his head. "John doesn't speak for me," he replies as he approaches her slowly with a frown. "And I am sorry for the way he spoke to you."

Regina sniffs, tipping her head back and letting her hair fall back behind her shoulders. "Shouldn't he be the one out here apologising?"

"Yes," he replies, nodding. "But he's a stubborn ass so I am afraid you have me instead." She shivers and he reaches for her, rubs her arm softly, innocently, and she almost finds comfort in the touch. "Come inside. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it."

Regina searches his eyes for a few long seconds before she nods silently and follows him back inside. With his best friend now out of the picture all she has to do is convince him to come back with her. And from the conflicted emotions that flitted across his face earlier, she's not sure it's going to be quite as hard as she had first thought.

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 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, I just have to say: WOW! The response I have** **received after posting only one chapter of this story has been phenomenal! I never expected such a large (or positive!) response, but I am so glad so many of you are intrigued as to where this story is going. I only hope you continue to enjoy it!**

 **As always a massive thanks to my beta, Mo, for looking over this for me. Also, a special shootout to the very talented starscythe who made me the beautiful cover for this story!**

 **Anyway, here's chapter two for you all before I get swamped down with exams! I would love to know your thoughts/feelings/predictions. Enjoy!**

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Robin likes whiskey. He has it on the rocks, no mixer, just ice. Regina is only on her second martini—the one he had bought her—and he's already ordering a third. It's a telltale sign that he is troubled. Something is bothering him and she has a feeling that it could be something to do with his married life. Because he is still entertaining her, seeking her company and even allowing her little touches. Anyone else wouldn't have taken him as the type of man to be unfaithful to his wife, what with his kind demeanour, gentle tone of voice and shy smile, but from the moment he followed Regina out into the alleyway, she saw that hint of sadness behind his icy blue eyes. She saw his vulnerability: hiding in the dark, misty swirls that lurk in the shadows of his irises.

And if she plays her cards right (she often does) she can use that to her advantage, especially now that his annoying unsightly friend has left. She can expose him, strip him bare and make him needy for her comfort, for the intimacy she can offer. Vulnerability is something that people like Regina pray upon. It's how they get the men to crumble, to give in to their darkest of desires and ignore all of those voices of reason telling them to stop.

And she knows exactly where to start picking at scabs: by asking Robin about his wife.

"She's away a lot," he replies, and the way he avoids Regina's gaze tells her he's unsure as to whether he wants to encroach upon this topic of conversation.

Up until now, the talk had been somewhat forced. A form of small talk that Regina simply cannot stand—she likes to get straight to the point, down to the nitty-gritty without all of the pointless conversation before that. She can't deal with skating around the edge of the rink to avoid the danger zone in the centre; the circle of ice which no one really skates over. It's slippery and hazardous. Much like the subject of Robin's wife.

"What does she do?" she asks.

His fingers are playing with the rim of his glass, his gaze set on the beer taps between them. "She's an interpreter."

She raises her eyebrows at that. "Oh. Is that why you were here with your friend tonight?" she pries. "She's away again?"

"Yes," he replies with a sigh and it has victory bells chiming in the back of Regina's head. "She's in Brazil with the BBC working on a new documentary," he explains solemnly, "Been away since Wednesday. She won't be back until Monday."

Regina frowns, leans her chin on her fingers as she pouts slightly. "That's a long time to be apart."

"It is," Robin murmurs before furrowing his brow, his expression turning almost irritated as he adds, "Though it seems nowadays it makes no difference whether we are together or apart."

This definitely peaks Regina's interest as she asks, "What do you mean?"

Robin hesitates, perhaps considering whether or not he wishes to discuss this further. But he's started now; he can't leave it at that and shrug it off like he never said anything. He seems to come to this conclusion too, as he frowns, brings his glass closer to him and tilts it towards him, inspecting the amber liquid and then he mutters, "When she's with me, she… it's like she would rather be anywhere else."

Bingo. Trouble in paradise, as she had suspected. And that only works in her favour. "That must be so hard for you," she offers sympathetically, and her eyes flit to his hand, which rests on the bar top. She reaches for it, letting her fingers ghost over his before looking up to gage his reaction; his lips are parted, eyelids slightly hooded as his gaze focuses on her digits that are slowly weaving their way up the bare skin of his forearm, until they come to a halt at the skin below his rolled-up sleeve.

"It is," he whispers, and it's obvious from his voice that just from this small touch he's affected by her. Oh the things she could do to him if he would just let her. But then his eyes meet hers and he seems to snap out of whatever trance she had managed to lure him into as he removes himself from her touch by lifting his glass up to his lips. He tips back a hearty mouthful of the liquor.

Regina winces, can practically feel the burn of the alcohol herself as he grimaces and shakes his head. Though, the more hard liquor he gulps back, the more likely he is to be spending the night in bed with her rather than alone. Not that she wants to take him back steaming drunk, either. She's done that once, and never again. She had to spend about half an hour sucking on a floppy dick before giving up and sending the hopeless bastard home to his wife.

"I just feel like I have done something wrong, but whatever I try to do in effort to make things better between us only seems to make things worse. She practically flinches whenever I try to touch her, she _never_ goes to bed at the same time as me and we haven't been _together_ in—" He gazes at Regina then, catches himself mid-sentence and then shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I am telling you this."

"I asked," she says softly, leaning in and letting her hand fall to his thigh. It draws his attention downwards but he doesn't reject the touch. "Sounds to me like your life is lacking intimacy," she purrs, and now his eyes are back on hers. Intrigued yet conflicted.

"Yes," he replies. Regina waits for more but he gives none, instead he looks back to his drink and brings it to his lips to finish before changing the subject. "What about you, Mila? Have you ever been married?"

The brunette shakes her head. "No," she answers simply before grabbing her martini and stirring it with the olive. "Marriage is so… constricting."

He chuckles humourlessly. "I wish I could disagree with you."

And this is delightfully ideal for Regina; the man is quite clearly miserable in his marriage: his wife won't let him touch her, let alone _fuck_ her, and if he feels constricted, well… "Maybe you just need an escape."

Robin furrows his brow, smiles confusedly and looks at her as he asks, "Like a hobby?"

She can't help but chuckle at that, the sound low and somewhat mocking. "No, Robin. Not a hobby."

"Oh?" he asks and she smirks, doesn't answer. She simply sips slowly at her drink whilst holding his gaze, which has him repeating his _Oh_ in a more understanding tone this time. However, yet again, he does not deny her advances, nor remark on them. Instead he stays silent as he lets it sink in, takes time to process them, perhaps even consider them.

Regina laughs lightly and leans in closer to him. "No, need to look so terrified," she whispers, "I won't bite." She sucks her lower lip between her perfect teeth. "Well, not if you don't want me to."

Robin shakes his head. "I'm not terrified of you," he murmurs, eyes searching hers before dropping down to his lap. "I'm terrified of my own thoughts. Of how tempted I am by this." He gestures between them and then looks back up to meet her gaze. "By _you_."

Regina smiles slightly, licks her lips and shrugs one shoulder elegantly. "I'm forbidden fruit, Dear."

She's got him right where she wants him, with one foot dangling off of the edge of the cliff. He's just mere moments from falling, from tumbling down jagged rock edges and rolling across uneven crags, falling victim to the bait she's laid out at the fold. But she can see him debating with himself, trying to choose between his desires and what is right; she's seen the look of conflict on so many men before him.

However, just as he opens his mouth to retort, there's a crash, which draws both Regina and Robin's attention from one another and over to where a waiter has just spilt a tray of freshly poured drinks all over a burly man and his girlfriend. Things are about to get ugly here. And quick. And Regina _really_ doesn't want to get caught up in a pub brawl.

So, the brunette reaches out and touches Robin's knee, grabbing his attention again. And as a final attempt to get him where she wants him, she asks, "What do you say we get out of here before things get messy?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Just a quick A/N to say a) i am sorry for the wait, uni has been MAD and b) I was a bit weary of posting this chapter... because of reasons a lot of you are sure aware about.**

 **NEVERTHELESS: I hope you enjoy the update and it was worth the wait. It's a gift from me to you on my Birthday! Thank you for all of the great comments so far, I LOVE reading them!**

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Regina gasps as her back hits the wall just outside of Robin's bedroom. His lips are on her neck, kissing, sucking, _marking._ And that's cheating, because she can't do the same to him, it was part of their agreement.

 _One night only._

 _No biting._

 _No marks._

It's a shame, really, because ever since Robin's shirt became unbuttoned all Regina has wanted to do is sink her teeth into the delightful puffiness of his muscles. So edible. _Mmm._ And as frustrating as it may be, these _rules,_ she supposes the thrill of not being able to do something she so desperately wants to do is the whole reason she does this.

He took a little convincing, mind you—or more like liquid courage. Not that Robin is drunk. He's completely sound of mind, knows exactly what he is doing (mentally and physically because the way he is stroking her thigh is entirely intentional and utterly arousing). Regina may do a few things that many would disagree with, but sleeping with a man without their sound consent is _not_ one of them.

Besides, after that second glass of wine, Robin was very sure this was something he wanted.

Robin's apartment was only a fifteen-minute walk from the bar, but Regina was glad to slip from her heels the moment they stepped through his front door. She felt a little disarmed without them on, often did, felt weaker, more vulnerable with the loss of height, but a girl can only withstand so many hours in 6-inch heels. Besides, she somehow felt like she didn't have to be so guarded around Robin.

Regina was quick to notice that the house was void of all couple-y things. She had seen a photo frame on the wall of the hallway of what must be Robin's wife and him in Paris, but as they walked into the living room it reminded her very much of a show room. Everything was meticulously placed and everything matched, but nothing was personal. Much like her own place.

Robin was calm on the outside, chatting animatedly about their surroundings, almost as if afraid to let a silence befall them, but Regina could tell he was on edge. He couldn't quite meet her eyes as he offered her a glass of wine, nor when he took a seat next to her on the couch. She almost felt guilty when she saw his white-knuckled grip on the stem of his wine glass.

So, she reached for his free hand, gave it a squeeze and said, "Relax."

And, when she caught his gaze, she added with a small smile, "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do." She wanted him to _want_ her. Not be terrified of her.

The brunette slid closer to him, their shoulders touching before she reached up and ran her thumb gently over the stubble on his jaw. "What do you want to do, Robin?" she whispered, her eyes holding his as her hand moved around to scratch against the nape of his neck, making him shiver and inhale a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Talk?"

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

But she wanted him to be more comfortable. So she nodded, smiled and retracted her hand, letting it fall to Robin's thigh. She squeezed the impressive muscle. "Then let's talk."

Immediately the man relaxed, and the tension in the air thinned.

They talked for a half hour over a few glasses of wine, until the bottle was running thin and both felt more relaxed. She learnt that Robin is a roofer (which explains the chiseled muscles and sun kissed skin), has been ever since he left school and joined his father's trade. And strangely, as Regina sat listening to the man talk passionately about his field of work, she found that her interest was not feigned, it was genuine. She enjoyed learning a little about this man.

But as the clock ticked over to midnight Regina began to grow impatient, because she had caught the man glancing at her lips (and her breasts) more than once, but he was still refusing to make a move. So when a silence fell between them, Regina seized the moment and slowly inched her face closer to his, gaging his reaction.

He didn't move back. Instead his eyes became heavy-lidded and Regina was pretty sure he was holding his breath. She didn't kiss his lips though, not at that moment. Instead she ghosted her crimson lips over the delightful scratchiness of Robin's stubble. She followed the chiseled jawline up to his ear where she whispered, "Do you want me to kiss you, Robin?"

The man audibly gulped and after a painstaking delay he nodded. When Regina pulled back she saw his eyes were closed. "Say it. Tell me you want me to kiss you," she commanded, her hand on his thigh sliding upwards.

Robin's blue eyes flew open, his pupils dilated and the whites of his eyes slightly pink from alcohol. "I want you to kiss me, Mila."

The grin she bared stretched from ear to ear; it was the grin of a predator finally catching its prey.

And that's how they got here, pressed against the doorframe of Robin's bedroom, the very same room he shares with his wife. And they are about to fuck on their bed. Regina embraces the thrill that runs down her spine at the thought. She can taste the whiskey mixed with his wife's red wine on his lips as she sucks on his tongue.

He moans.

She sighs.

Then Robin is reaching behind her and turning the knob on the door, making them stumble backwards into the bedroom. Both are giddy and slightly drunk. She's won, she has him where she wants him, panting and stiff between the legs.

There's no turning back now.

Robin's shirt is still hanging unbuttoned from his shoulders as he kicks the door closed behind them, and it's irritating; it's getting in the way of Regina's line of sight. So she rids him of it; running her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and under the sleeves until the shirt slips away.

Attractive doesn't quite do Robin's physique justice. His skin is tight over his muscles and there's a splattering of hair littering the expanse of his chest. His biceps bulge from his broad shoulders and his stomach shows signs of a delectable set of abs with each exhale of his breath. He's delicious, a meal to devour; and boy, will she devour him.

"Mmmm, you really do have an amazing body," Regina muses in a low and seductive tone as she marvels in him. She grips his biceps firmly, letting her fingers trail down to tangle her digits with his, biting down onto her lower lip as she imagines just what his hands have in store for her. His fingers are thick, soft and long; every woman's dream. She catches his gaze and she can tell he knows what she's thinking as he smirks at her, a mischievous glint in his light blue eyes.

Regina smirks back at him, releasing his fingers as she goes back to gripping his meaty upper arms. However, as she dips her head forward to kiss his chest, Robin steps back. And, in a brief moment of dread, the brunette worries he may be backing out. But then she catches his intense gaze as she peaks up through her eyelashes and she hears him husk, "I want to see you."

His hands grip her hips firmly before slowly smoothing up her torso to cup her breasts through the material of her dress, causing a ripple of desire straight to her core. "You have amazing tits," he murmurs quietly yet with conviction. His gaze is fixated on her ample cleavage and it's almost as if he didn't mean to utter those words aloud. For a man of few words, Regina has to admit she is pleasantly surprised.

The brunette preens at the attention, letting the comment go straight to her head (which is already a little cloudy from alcohol). She chuckles softly, hooking her finger under Robin's chin and lifting his gaze to meet hers as she shakes her hair back behind her shoulders. "And they're all yours tonight," she says slowly, not missing the way his eyes dart down to her lips, that is until she is pressing her breasts further into his hands. He groans, his gaze drops and he squeezes her more fervently.

Regina bites back a moan.

Simply the way he is looking at her has her weak in the knees, and she wonders idly if he looks at his wife the same way. For her own ego's sake she is going to say that no, he does not. Because there's an excitement there, a dark glint that turns the previous cyan blue into a dark sapphire.

"Undress me, Robin," she invites, wanting more of his hungry gaze, craving his growing neediness for _her_.

His fingers are oddly soft for a roofer as they slip beneath the straps of her dress and slide them over and down her shoulders. She shimmies from the material until she's only in her underwear; a matching black lace set, sheer and tantalising. She stands confidently as Robin's red-hot gaze sweeps her body. She will never grow tired of the look married men give her when she is first revealed to them.

Her nipples are tight, solid pebbles beneath the see-through material and his eyes are immediately drawn to them. "A sin," he says, his head shaking as he reaches around her back and unclasps her bra. The garment falls to the floor. "An unearthly sin sent to tempt me, to capture me." His hands are under her breasts now and she's breathing heavily, affected by his tipsy mutterings. "A spider who has spun her web, and I, a willing victim, have fallen amongst the sticky threads of silk," he whispers, his thumbs sliding up and ghosting over her hardened pink flesh.

Regina's heart beats fast against her chest; he's sussing her out. He knows who she is, what she wants from him and, God, who knew the man would be so poetic about it? Yet, his advances do not stop as he twists her nipples between forefinger and thumb and tugs ever so slightly. Regina can't help but mewl.

"I'm a married man, Mila," he whispers, his eyes capturing hers, "So, _Gods_ , why do I want you so badly?"

For a moment Regina is thrown by the use of her stage name, and she shouldn't be, of course, she's used it many times before. But she was so caught up in the moment, so convinced he had figured her out and was going to make her feel the guilt she should be feeling for being an adulteress.

But, no.

No. He's confessing _his_ sins.

She reaches up with a new burning desire, cups the back of his neck and yanks him down towards her. Their lips are barely touching. "I've said before, Dear. I'm forbidden fruit."

Then she kisses him. Hard. With teeth and tongue and vigour.

They stumble to the bed, a mess of tangled limbs and dishevelled clothes (what's left of them, that is) and Robin takes his place above her, kissing his way up her torso before meeting her mouth. But Regina has to refrain from rolling her eyes. She _hates_ the missionary position; it's so vanilla, so _submissive_.

So she pushes back on his shoulders, their lips parting with a pop. Regina looks up into his fiery gaze before hooking her knee around his hip and she uses her strength to flip them. She sits up straight, her hands planted on his lower torso.

"I like being on top," she says, a small smirk curving her kiss-swollen lips.

"Go ahead," Robin replies, all too happy to comply as he runs his hands up her naked thighs. "I can enjoy you better this way."

Regina smiles, a tight little thing, before she turns back to the task at hand. She has spent all evening trying to seduce this man and, now that she has him where she wants him, she isn't going to waste another second.

She reaches for his belt, slipping it free of the buckle so that his jeans are loose enough to tug down his muscular thighs, over his knees and off his toes. She's delighted by the tenting in his boxers—even more delighted by the _size_.

Robin props himself up onto his elbows, looking lustfully down at Regina as she runs her palms up his thighs to grab the fabric of his underwear. She looks up at him for the go ahead, and when he nods, she smirks, slowly lowering the material until he springs free.

Regina tilts her head, examining his length from top to bottom before reaching for him and gripping his base firmly. "When was the last time you were thoroughly fucked, Robin?" she asks, her eyes dark as she finds his.

The man blushes slightly, takes his lower lip between his teeth before letting out a defeatist breath. "About five months," he admits sheepishly.

 _Wow_. What do married couples _do_ nowadays? Regina will never truly understand marriage.

The brunette pouts sympathetically, shaking her head slowly as she pumps her hand up his length once and then back down again. "Poor _unfortunate_ soul," she purrs before smirking at him as she leans forward, swirling the tip of her tongue over the head of his cock.

Robin shivers beneath her, his fists clenching at his sides as he lets his head roll back. "Fuck," he whispers.

The brunette chuckles darkly. "Don't worry," she consoles, "I will take care of you."

She takes him into her mouth, sucking on his tip before letting him slide down her tongue as far as her gag reflex will allow. The noise Robin makes is barely human, a strangled _nguh!_ which is a combined moan and a whimper. His hand finds his way into her hair and grips tightly. Regina doesn't mind, though; in fact she rather likes it. It spurs her on even more as she begins to slide him in and out of her mouth, working up a steady pace that is good for the both of them.

She's always enjoyed doing this. Not necessarily the intrusion, but the _reaction_ she gets. She likes it when they pull her hair. When they cry her name. When they beg her to stop because it's just _too_ good. It inflates the ego, has prickles of pride crackling up her spine like a sparkler.

And Robin is _really_ enjoying this, which tells Regina his wife is either _really_ bad at this or very rarely does it. From how hard he's gripping onto the roots of her hair, she is going to guess it is the latter. She hums for effect, moans against him and sucks just a little harder. Her whole body _throbs_ at the groan he gives in return.

Regina keeps going, faster, deeper, harder, until the man is practically whimpering beneath her. But she doesn't want him to come yet. Not like this— _not_ when this could potentially only be a one time thing (she _hopes_ not, she's quite fond of this one). So she pulls back, licks her lips and lets out a low monosyllabic laugh when he moans at the loss.

"I hope you aren't trying to steal me of my pleasure yet, _thief_ ," she teases, "We've still got all night."

Robin's breathless as his grip in her hair becomes looser and he caresses the back of her head softly. He lets out a soft laugh. "I wouldn't dream of it," he says, shaking his head before biting his lip and adding, "I—just—you're _very good at that._ "

Regina laughs, making her way back up Robin's body before pushing on his chest so that he collapses back onto the mattress with a light bounce. "I know," she replies, winking before leaning down to kiss him again.

She feels his fingers on her hip, stroking softly, edging closer to where she is damp and aching to be touched. "Touch me," she murmurs against his lips and then again more fervently, " _Touch me, Robin._ "

He doesn't need much more persuading, in fact, none at all, as his hand slides to the apex of her thighs just as he captures her lips again. Her stomach summersaults as his digits flutter over warm lace. "Mmmm," she hums, letting her lips part as she gasps against his mouth.

"You're soaked," he mutters, sneaking two fingers beyond the material of her panties and between her lips.

"All for you," she promises, letting her eyes fall closed momentarily as she keeps her composure upon feeling his finger slip up to pulse against her sensitive bundle of nerves. "Ohhh, just like that," she husks, moving her hips against the tips of his fingers as she works herself up until she's slippery and needy for more. "Condom?" she breathes, pressing both of her hands into the mattress either side of Robin's head.

"Top draw, Love."

"Mmmm," Regina hums in acknowledgement, not quite ready to deprive herself of the pleasure of Robin's fingers just yet as she continues to move above him.

But she feels empty, wants him inside of her. So she begrudgingly pries herself off of him, moving to sit on the side of the bed and reaches for the draw of the bedside cabinet, pulling it open. She has to smirk at the multiple other (less enjoyable) items before she rifles through the random tat and reaches for the box of condoms.

She throws a condom behind her and it lands on Robin's chest. Smirking, she tells him to put it on whilst she reaches down her body and rids herself of her panties before crawling back to him.

He's shaking, she realises, as he rolls the rubber over his tip, and Regina has to frown as she lays a steady hand over his. "Is this what you want?" she checks.

Robin looks at her wide-eyed. "Yes," he answers quickly, " _God,_ yes it is. I just think it's the whiskey."

Regina laughs darkly, taking over the task at hand and sliding the condom down his length with the ease of someone who has done this many-a-time before. "Well, at least it isn't affecting other areas," she teases, gripping his base firmly to exaggerate her point as she makes her way over him once more.

Robin laughs, shaking his head as his hands reach for her waist, pulling her towards him. "I've never had a problem with that," he replies cheekily.

Regina grins, blindly guiding him between her legs. "I'm glad to hear it," she replies, before sliding his tip through her folds and lowering herself onto him slowly, letting him sink into her, inch by inch.

 _Oh._

It's a simultaneous sigh from both parties in harmonious pitches.

He feels incredible; stretching and filling her in ways she hasn't felt in a _very_ long time, and suddenly she's acutely aware that this has the potential to be some of the best sex she's ever had. They fit almost painfully perfectly. She won't admit that she finds the thought quite alarming.

Regina quickly distracts herself by leaning forward, changing the angle of him inside of her, before she begins to move. Slowly at first, finding a rhythm they can both work at, before gradually beginning to pick up the pace.

Her breasts bounce as her body rocks above him, and the sheer look of desire on Robin's face is almost comical—if it wasn't so damn sexy (why is he so attractive?). It doesn't take him long before he's reaching for them with that delightfully firm grip of his, cupping and kneading them as his hips rotate up into her.

It's eye-rollingly heavenly.

He's hitting all the right spots, all the little hidden-away spots that make her toes curl and thighs twitch.

Regina moves faster, needy for more. For more pleasure, more intensity as she grinds her clit down against him with every thrust of her hips. She could come like this, but she won't. Not in time. Not when the man beneath her hasn't had sex in five months. A gentleman he may be, but he's no superman. _Especially_ if the way he reacted to oral was any indication to future performance.

But she's okay with that.

The night is still young, after all.

"Say my name, Robin," she husks, looking the man directly in his eyes as she rides him into the mattress with a low moan.

Robin groans, an incoherent thing as his fingers flex against her breasts. He's close. He's going to come, and he's trying to hold on. Regina finds it somewhat endearing, but she has a goal in mind, and that's to make this man sin, to strip him of his morals and come at another's woman fault.

 _Regina's_ fault.

"Say my name whilst you cum." She wants him to remember who made him cum, needs to know he's thinking of her and not his wife as he chases his release.

Robin's face contorts in pleasure before his eyes are slipping closed and he's letting out a strained but oh-so-clear, "Mila!"

She feels the warmth of him through the condom as she reaches down and holds onto the base of it, halting her movements. She should be slightly disappointed that she didn't get her release like this, but he came with her name (well, not quite her name) on his lips and that gives Regina an adrenaline rush far more satisfying than an orgasm.

Well, maybe not quite, but she's not done with him yet. And from the way he is looking at her, neither is he.

Robin's blue eyes are wide and suddenly vast with guilt. "You didn't come," he states, doesn't need to question, knows he blew his load before he could make his bed partner come.

"No," she says, feeling him begin to soften inside of her already. "I didn't," she replies, slipping him from her. "But there are ways around that."

But Robin doesn't look at all consoled. "I'm so sorry," he apologises, swiping a hand down his face, "That never usually happens. It's been a long time and I have had a lot to drink…I couldn't hold on any longer. I tried—"

"Robin," Regina cuts in sharply. "Instead of blabbering on about it, why don't you actually _do_ something about it?"

It's almost adorable how eager he is to comply, nodding vigorously before flipping them, Regina landing flat on her back with an _Oomph!_

"Now it's my turn to show you just what I can do with my tongue," Robin mutters, standing to discard the used condom before returning back to her immediately, determined to make up for coming too early. And it _really_ shouldn't be as much as a turn on as it is.

Regina bites her lip as he goes straight for her breasts, latching onto her left nipple with a light bite. "Robin!" she gasps, "You said no biting."

"I did, didn't I?" he asks, looking up at her with a small smirk. But that's all he says before he's going back to using his teeth, nipping his way down her torso before licking away the small flickers of fleeting pain.

She surrenders herself to the feeling, her stomach fluttering excitedly as he grows nearer and nearer to where she is already worked up. She may not have come, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy it.

Regina parts her legs easily for him as he lowers himself between them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

* * *

Regina has to catch her breath.

Never. Never in all her life has a man made her orgasm _that_ many times in a row from their tongue alone. She swears there was a moment where she almost blacked out before she pushed Robin away and told him enough was enough.

She sure knows how to pick 'em good, it seems.

Regina stares blankly up at the ceiling, somewhat aware of Robin's lips as they venture their way back up her stomach and she only really registers them when they are pressed against her own. She can taste herself on his tongue.

"Well," she husks hoarsely, sinking back into the duvet as he pulls back. "You certainly made up for earlier," she teases, though the chuckle she lets out is a lot more breathless than she intended. Damn it.

Robin chuckles, and she's quickly becoming aware of his lip-biting habit as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth once more. She likes it.

"I don't usually do that," he defends, shaking his head. "Actually, there's a lot of things tonight that I have done that I don't usually do." He frowns.

He's thinking. She can tell by the creases in his forehead. But thinking is dangerous when she's this vulnerable, still gooey from her five orgasms. So she smiles, busses her lips against his and promises, "I forgive you."

She winks at him and it lightens the mood some.

That and the fact that he's pressing intrusively into her hipbone. Regina grins, pressing herself up against him suggestively. "Mmm," she hums, "Seems I am not the only one who enjoyed that, hmm?"

Robin laughs, raising a mischievous brow before asking, "Are you ready to go again, already, Slinger?"

Regina grins, gripping onto his shoulders and pulling him close. "Always."


	4. Chapter 4

**Good evening, thank you so much for all of the enthusiasm for this story so far. I really do love hearing what you all think and am so grateful to have so many lovely comments. Thank you to the lovely Mo9Ja for betaing this for me, you are a star!**

 **I hope you like it! Please do let me know what you think, and what you reckon will happen next!**

 **So, without further ado, the morning after...**

* * *

The curtains had been left partially open and the early morning light filters through the dusty nets of Robin's bedroom window, shining a rectangular beam of light across Regina's eyes. She stretches and rolls onto her back, clutching the sheets to her otherwise naked frame. Looking to her left she smirks triumphantly at the sight of the sleeping man beside her.

She'll enjoy his peaceful features while they last, before they're replaced with worry, regret and woe. Not that she cares; she got what she wanted and if Robin regrets it? Well, that's his problem. _Her_ only problem right now is the desperate need she has to pee.

So Regina quietly slips from beneath the covers and pads towards the en suite before closing the door. As she passes the mirror she notices her make up is slightly smudged and her lipstick is no longer, but all-in-all she doesn't look terrible. Especially not after she has swiped a spit-slicked thumb underneath the rims of her eyes to tidy it up some.

As she pees she inspects her surroundings. The bathroom smells faintly of women's perfume and Regina's eyes are drawn to the shelf opposite the toilet. Cheap perfume and magnolia hand cream—is this woman in her sixties for Christ's sake? Rolling her eyes, she stands from the toilet before washing her hands.

When she returns to the bedroom, Robin is sitting up, leaning back on his hands as he winces at his surroundings. Someone's a little disorientated and a touch hungover perhaps.

"Look who has finally woken up," Regina purrs, catching his attention as she leans against the en suite doorway completely in the nude. She takes great pride in her physical attributes; she knows her body is one of her most effective weapons.

And despite the confusion, worry and now slight horror that overcome Robin's features as realisation dawns, when he looks up towards her, he still sneaks a cheeky glance at her breasts. Regina smirks slightly, sauntering towards the bed.

"Oh, God," is Robin's reply as he averts his gaze and swipes a hand over his face. And surprisingly the words and the way they are spoken feel like two tiny pins being pressed into Regina's pincushion heart. It has her smile dropping and her shoulders sagging just slightly as the confidence slips from her demeanour.

"Oh God?" she questions, brows furrowing as she places her hands onto her hips.

The man shakes his head, still refusing to look at her. "I was hoping it had all been a dream," he murmurs, though she knows it's more to himself than her as he looks up to her with an almost apologetic frown.

"The sex was that good, huh?" she teases with a wink, sitting down on the end of the bed and bringing the sheets back up to cover her modesty, but Robin shakes his head.

"The sex shouldn't have happened," he says and then closes his eyes, pinching his nose.

Regina raises a brow, shrugging an unsympathetic shoulder as she states the obvious. "Well, it's a bit late for that now."

Robin groans, dropping his face into his hands. "Oh, God, what have I done?"

"Me," Regina purrs, crawling towards him and taking his chin into her fingers, tilting it up so he can look at her. However, as she leans in to kiss him, he pulls away from her touch.

"No, Mila." He closes his eyes, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have done this. I shouldn't have ignored my problems and jumped into bed with the first person who showed me affection."

Ouch.

She shouldn't care, she doesn't (but she really does). Robin was supposed to be just another name on her list. Yet, somehow, his rejection _hurts_. And not because of her pride. No. This is different, different from all of the others. Hell, she's been literally pushed out of the front door of one guy's house and she did not care one bit. So why does she care now?

"So you don't find me attractive?" Regina challenges, raising a brow and looking down her nose at him.

"What?" Robin frowns and shakes his head no almost immediately. "No! Of course I find you attractive. Look at you. You're one of the most stunning women I have ever met. And that's why this is so _wrong_."

"It's not _wrong,_ " Regina cuts in, shuffling back towards him, her confidence regained some with his subtle little compliment. "You're human, Robin. Intimacy is a human need, and you aren't getting that from your wife so—"

"So I should be focusing on trying to get that back," he interjects. "Not jeopardising that even more by _cheating_. That's not who I am, that's not what I do."

Regina doesn't quite know what to say; so she doesn't say anything. She has had many married men pour their hearts out to her about their failing marriages or conflicted feelings, which she's had to refrain from yawning or rolling her eyes at. But she almost feels sorry for Robin, because she knew all along that cheating wasn't in his nature unlike a lot of her previous acquaintances. She knew she would have to get quite a few glasses of alcoholic influence into his system before he would even consider taking her to his bed, and now she _almost_ feels bad witnessing the hurt in his eyes.

Then again, she really doesn't.

Last night was some of the best sex Regina ever had, and if she starts feeling guilty about it, it will only lessen her chances of it continuing even more. Because she needs to continue to manipulate this man, to wrangle him around her little finger until he can't escape—because there is no way in hell she is ready to get rid of his cock quite yet. Or his tongue for that matter.

And _that's_ why she's feeling 'attached' to him.

Robin sighs to break the on-going silence. "I'm not even sure how I feel about my wife anymore. I'm not sure how _she_ feels about me."

And, God, he's still going on about her. Regina has to refrain from groaning in distaste.

She shrugs. "Well, if you can make her come like you made me come last night I don't see why you would have a problem," she teases, bumping her shoulder into his and he almost smiles. Almost.

"Oh Mila," he sighs, reaching for her hand and she lets him take it. "You came at both the best and the worst time."

The brunette frowns at this, tilting her head just slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know why I feel so guilty about last night?" he asks and she shakes her head, interested to see where he is going with this. "Because I enjoyed it."

Regina lifts a brow, and she can't help but smirk as she sinks her teeth into her lower lip. "Mmmm?" she hums lowly, seductively, leaning closer to him.

"Yes," he replies, leaning in slightly brushing the tip of his nose against hers before looking up into her eyes. "And I want to do it again," he confesses.

"Oh?"

"Yes," he sighs, pulling back so that he can focus his eyes on hers properly, without the too-close proximity. And then he's saying something which is a total mood-killer, "Which is why I can't see you again, Mila."

Ah.

And, well, she doesn't beg, so she won't ask him to change his mind. But she can see the desire in his eyes, the conflict burrowed in his frown and the frustration set in his jaw. This isn't what he wants; it's what he feels he should do, which means there's a good chance that he may change his mind all by himself.

"Too bad," she sighs, reaching out to run a single finger up and down his arm. "This could have been fun." She pouts before dropping the sheets and standing from the bed. She puts on a show for him as she bends to pick up her panties and then her dress from last night.

"But unfair," he replies, "Not only to Marian but to you."

Regina hums, wiggling back into her dress with her back to him before turning to face him as she does up the zip. She doesn't miss how his gaze swiftly darts northwards from where he had previously been staring. "I suppose you're right," she sighs sadly as she picks her bra up from the floor and shoves it into her purse that she retrieves from the chair by the door.

It's theatrics really, because if anything she's pissed, but emotional manipulation worked before so perhaps it'll work again this morning. She wants him to chase her, just like he did last night. So if she can't use her seductive techniques she'll play on his empathetic nature and use that to her advantage.

"I never really do this kind of thing," Regina lies, "I just… saw something in you I couldn't resist." She tuts and laughs sarcastically. "It's just my luck that you happened to be married."

"Mila…"

"Last night meant a lot to me," she cuts in, and she isn't completely sure that she's not telling the truth (though she would _never_ admit that, not even to herself). Regina offers him a small smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she adds, "So thank you for that, Robin." She stakes a small step forward. "And well, if you change your mind…" She reaches into her purse, rummaging behind her bra to find a pad and a pen before she scrawls her second number onto it. "Here's my number."

She hands it to him and he takes it with a frown. "Last night meant a lot to me too," he says so quietly that Regina almost misses it as he reaches over the bed to grab his boxer shorts and pull them on. She's a little surprised by this confession, but has no time to dwell on it when he adds, "Let me drive you home, at least."

Regina shakes her head. "No, I'm not far from here and I like to walk. Gives me time to clear my head." She approaches him slowly as he stands from the bed, and reaches out, gripping his bicep softly before pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. "Goodbye, Robin," she bids before turning on her heels and slipping from the room.

Regina grins when she is out of sight, collecting her discarded footwear by the front door and slipping them on. She's sure she deserves an Oscar after the scene she had just played out. Smirking, Regina lets herself out of her lover's apartment and begins the walk of shame back to her place without a single glance back or an ounce of shame.

She hopes this isn't the last she hears of Locksley.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for all the kinds comments I have been receiving from this story, I am so pleased everyone seems to be enjoying it so much! I apologise for the delay in updating but things have been crazy for my recently and will continue to be so, but I am trying to fit this story along side my revision schedule for summer exams so that I can get it finished. I am aiming to have 2-3 chapters after this one.**

 **Anyway, hope you like this little chapter! Please do leave a review and let me know what you think.**

* * *

It's been two weeks since Regina left Robin's apartment, since she turned a few heads as she strolled the early morning streets of New York in a booby cocktail dress and a pair of heels. And now it's been two weeks since she's heard from Robin, and Regina's bored of waiting. Honestly, yes, she is a little miffed that he didn't once contact her, and even more miffed that she won't have his tongue between her legs again. Regina has sampled many talented tongues but Robin's… it was something _else._ The insides of her thighs tingle just thinking about it.

His tongue would do this _thing_ where he would trace her clit but then press, just right, in these small little licking motions, which Regina could feel pulsate all the way down to her toes. No man has ever made her feel so good in the history of her sex life. And she has had _a lot_ of sex.

Then there was his scruff; she likes a beard, likes how it feels against her thighs and how she can still feel it there the next morning if they eat her right. Robin pulled off the scruff perfectly. It accented his dimples, made his smile even sexier. Especially when he was grinning up at her from between her knees.

She thought of him on the Saturday night, as she slipped her fingers down her panties and brought herself to orgasm. Her fingers traced the route that Robin's tongue had made, a pattern she had paid thorough attention to and saved in the back of her head for more spine-tingling orgasms. But it just didn't feel the same. It left Regina sated but not spent. Panting but not breathless.

Damn Robin Locksley and his ability to set the bar incredibly high.

But Robin never called, and Regina is pissed. Of course she is, she doesn't like the idea that the man who couldn't even wait for her to finish before blowing his load didn't want to come back for more. She's pissed because out of all of her fucks, he's the only one that she has actually wished would come back for more, and yet he's left _her_ wanting more. And that never happens. So she's also pissed at herself for feeling this way—but more pissed at him for _making_ her feel this way.

Bastard.

Though Regina does not wait around for anyone. No matter how good looking they are, or how amazing they may be at oral. So on Friday, once she is home from her day job, she is slipping into something a little less comfortable, and, well, something a little _less._ Tonight she's getting back out there, sharpening her claws, ready to dig into some fresh meat and make some poor other sex-starved bastard go against his wedding vows and fall under the sheets with her.

She needs sex. Good sex. Two weeks is too long to go without it. A vibrator can only offer so much.

Regina paints her lips a signature red before heading into her closet to pick out a bag. She slips her second phone into it along with her lipstick and a spare pair of panties. However, she startles when her clutch begins to vibrate, the noise loud against her dresser. Her phone is ringing. Regina reaches for it and fishes it out.

There's no caller ID but she answers it anyway.

"This is Mila."

She's met with silence, but there's someone there. She can feel the weight of them on the other end of the line. " _Hello?_ " she prompts again, her patience wearing a little thin.

There's a shuffling in the background but again no answer, and Regina is just about to hang up when she is met with a murmured _fuck_ and then a quiet and defeatist, "Mila, it's Robin."

Oh. Well this _is_ unexpected. She really had thought she'd heard the last of Locksley. Apparently she was wrong, and she is quite pleased that she was. Regina can't help but grin mischievously as she perches against her dressing table. "Robin," she purrs, her lower lip sinking between her pearly whites. "I didn't think I would be hearing from you. I must admit… it's a pleasant surprise."

The man sighs. "That's because I have been fighting against making this phone call for almost two weeks." He sighs before admitting, "And I know I shouldn't be calling you, but I can't stop thinking about you."

A thrill ripples through Regina's veins and throbs between her legs. She loves it when she leaves an impression, and she doesn't mean the small scratch marks she may or may not have left behind on Robin's ass. Despite their agreement. She knew she left him wanting more—she can't quite believe she doubted herself.

"You have?" she asks, her voice airy and feminine as she flicks her hair behind her shoulders.

"Yes," he admits and then there's a pause. Another lengthy silence before Robin simply states, "Marian is out of town tonight."

It's an invitation. But he doesn't want to _invite,_ because that would be wrong. So he's saying this so that she can invite herself. And she's more than happy to oblige as she husks, "Want me to come over and… keep you company?"

Robin groans. He's conflicted, yet _he_ called _her_. It's very clear what he wants; he just needs to agree. And that's what he eventually does as he whispers a soft, "Yes."

The brunette smirks, grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."


End file.
